


Domesticity

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Families of Choice, Gen, M/M, Moving In Together, Team as Family, The tower had a lot of empty space okay, Tony Stark is not good with words but he is good at practical detail, this fic contains movie nights and team dinners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Tony moved the team in bit by bit, how people find comfort in the little things and the most thoughtful parts are the practical little details. How, gradually, things become routine and routines become tradition and the restaurants in New York know when they'll need extra staff for a take out order. How Bucky realised that, despite the years and the changes in faces, Steve is at his best with a team around him to mask the stupid, because no matter how much he might love his best friend, if there's one thing Steve is not short of, it's a little bit of stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticity

Opening up the tower to the team had been a natural progression. Tony had known Clint and Natasha and Phil for years (and Clint and Natasha weren't going anywhere without Phil), Bruce didn't have a real home but Tony wasn't about to let him drift aimlessly. Maybe people would be looking for him and trying to get at him again, sure, but on the other hand, he was a known quantity and would be trackable either way, and the tower was decidedly not SHIELD and had security systems which would keep out any potential pains in the ass like the army. Thor was happy to room with his comrades again, but he divided his time pretty equally between New Mexico and New York when he was on Midgard anyway. Steve had a SHIELD supplied apartment which was dark, dingy, had no personality to it, and was practically full to the rafters of trackers. Pepper still lived in the tower, Rhodey had rooms there for when he came back from tours (though he still held onto his own apartment in case he needed to get away from Tony for a little bit). When Bucky had come back on the scene it seemed only natural to invite him to move in too. None of them were prepared to let SHIELD take custody of him, and that way he had access to psychological support, was easily contained and his location was known. Also, the Avengers all had some pretty fundamental views on what had happened to him, and what should happen in future. All things considered it was easiest for him to live there and as he slowly began to rebuild the shattered remnants of what had been a half life barely lived for decades, he began to quite like it. 

They had rules, of course. There was no way an arrangement like that would have worked without rules. There were communal areas, and while a lot of people hung out in the communal areas, everybody had their own space and it worked kind of like a private apartment complex. The ability to opt in and out of what was dangerously close to a family was something they all needed from time to time. The majority of the residents didn't really have a blueprint for family life (and two of them were lacking a blueprint for life in this century entirely), and it had taken a while to strike a balance that worked. When they found that balance though, everything else fell into place. 

***

Bruce had been the first to move in, and his experience was quite different from the rest of the team's. After the battle of New York, after the shawarma, after everything, he was the one with nowhere to go. Thor had to stay with Loki, everyone else was going back to base or their apartment, but Bruce wasn't comfortable with the idea of going anywhere near SHIELD in that kind of capacity. He was trying to work out whether he would be able to find anything, anywhere, fully aware that he technically didn't have any money and hadn't been paid for this avenging business, when Tony grinned at him as the others gathered up their coats and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world,

"C'mon big guy."

Of course, Bruce hadn't been sure about going back to somewhere he'd caused massive structural damage, but if he'd learned anything in the last few days he'd spent with Tony, and from following the man's career as a whole, it was that Tony was not likely to take no for an answer if he didn't want to. And there was never a time when Tony Stark was happy with no as an answer (except, by all accounts, in a sexual context. He might have got around, but rumour said the man was as respectful a lover as anyone could wish for). So he attempted to argue, unsuccessfully and unconvincingly, more out of politeness than anything else. He was far too tired to be worrying about having somewhere to stay and definitely not in any kind of shape to argue his way out of what Tony wanted him to do. 

So he went back to the tower. And he stayed. 

There was no shortage of spare rooms, and although they both crashed on the king size bed in Tony's room, too tired to worry about finding somewhere made up and clean, it took less than a few days for Tony to be drawing Bruce's floor into the plans, asking the man what he wanted from his space, how he wanted it decorated, what furniture he wanted, where he'd left things around the world that were important to him. He'd ended up with a space full of pleasantly mismatched souvenirs from all over the place. There were rugs and cushions and second hand furniture. Contrary to what Bruce had expected, Tony hadn't put up a fight about him preferreing second hand couches and shelves. Bruce liked things with a bit of wear and a bit of history, and he fitted right in among everything. The space was dark in both furniture and colour scheme, kind of like a cave, but he was happiest like that and it felt like home.

That had been more than enough, but then Tony had started building him a lab too. Bruce had tried to argue about that, but everything he came up with was turned around by Tony pointing out how valuable his reearch had the potential to be. He needed the lab space, but as far as Tony was concerned, Bruce's intellect was too important to waste and Bruce wanted to argue but Tony made some very convincing points and he missed being able to do the kind of science that counted, that benefited humankind rather than just trying to stop himself being the living incarnation of Doctor Jekyll with a big green Hyde. 

He stopped arguing so much when he began to realise how lonely Tony was. Bruce understood loneliness all too well. Tony was lonely in a very different way though, he was surrounded by people all the time, but he felt constantly 'on', constantly performing, and he could never ever let his guard down. It was an exhausting way to live. And Bruce felt like maybe Tony would benefit from his company even if Tony Stark wouldn't notice. It was an interesting idea, but he stopped putting up so much of a fight and instead started inviting Tony to spend time with him. He took over the cooking duties (on the nights when they were on enough of a reglar schedule to allow for actual food), offered him cups of the range of exotic teas he'd acquired over the years, encouraged him to take breaks and bounced ideas back and forth between them. They couldn't collaborate on everything but it wasn't long before they had a couple of major projects in the works that they could work on together.

One of the many things Bruce had learned in years of being on the run, travelling around the world through different countries where he didn't even speak the language, was how to read people. He was very good at it. It had served him well in those few days he'd been with the team, and he got the feeling it was going to be something he got even better at over the time they lived together. Tony was hard to read, he survived by wearing masks and building defences and deflecting attention with the verbal skills of a master. Natasha had been hard to read too, she made a living at it, but Bruce hoped that over time maybe he would get better at reading both of them. He liked the idea of having friends again. Before it had been hard to make them, he hadn't been able to trust himself and he'd known he'd be moving on again soon, but now... well, now it felt like this could be a real home, a not quite forever home, but a home for long enough and he liked that idea. It was always about people more than places or things anyway. That was another thing he'd learned.

It seemed pretty obvious, as Tony worked on his floor, engaging him in the planning process with a kind of manic excitement, and as he started designing floors for the rest of the team too, that this was how Tony did relationships. It wasn't bribery, it wasn't anything as mercenary as that. He just didn't know how to trust people, he'd never learned that, he'd never learned how to show affection, or love, or how to get close to people. Pepper once told Bruce when he took her up a cup of something calming on a stressful day that Tony was one of the hardest people in the world to get to know, but that once you managed it, you knew he was too precious, too incredible to lose again. He was loyal to a fault and beyond it, but if you threw away his loyalty, if you hurt him, then that was the end. Tony was more intimate with emotional hurt than practically any other emotion you could name. So he didn't show affection in any way that could recognised, named, brought to shame him, instead he gave things. He could deny that easily enough, he could say it was the money, or it was useful, or it was a dumb present, but the things that Tony, the real Tony, gave, were never dumb, and turning them down felt like rejection.

He didn't use his wealth to buy people anymore, he'd had enough of that, and people who tried to use him for it. He just used it to show affection because it was about the only way he knew how. Bruce could understand that, it made a lot of sense of Tony's behaviour actually, and so he stopped saying no (as long as the suggestions were mostly sensible), and instead he just started accepting with a smile, a thank you, and an offer of some time they could spend together. Tony wasn't used to people wanting to spend time with him and it was painfully obvious sometimes how much it meant. 

He was glad when Steve moved in too. There was a man without an anchor if Bruce had ever seen one, and he knew what it was like to drift through life with nothing. Seemed like Tony was building a harbour for stricken ships alone on rough seas, and Bruce felt he was pretty okay with that. He started planning what to cook for a super soldier's dietary needs, and hummed a little more as he went around the place.

***

Steve was beyond grateful for Jarvis. He hadn't really struggled with the technology too much when he'd awoken, but the amount of information he was missing was staggering and sometimes he felt like he would never catch up, despite effectively having a lifetime to do it in. He had also been the one to thank Tony most effusively when he'd moved in and seen the space that had been... well, designed for him. 

Tony seemed to have put a lot of thought into what they might want and need from a space and even more generally. The best thing about Steve's rooms was that he was able to actually return some of the Captain's things thanks to his dad's fanatical obsession. Rather than making something of it, he'd put them all in what seemed like logical spaces in the room (and made it perfectly clear that Steve was free to throw things out, move things around and arrange them and decorate as he wished, Tony had just wanted to make sure he wasn't moving into some kind of personality free blank canvas, and Steve had eventually been willing to forgive the small panel of red, white and blue tiling in the bathroom and the overly patriotic kitchen fixings).

Tony had turned up to help him move in dirty jeans and an old band t-shirt. At first Steve had been surprised that Tony had come to help him move in person, especially after some of the jibes they'd traded, but Steve was slowly starting to adjust to the idea that Tony, just plain Tony, without the Stark, was someone quite different to the media personality. Iron Man was too, but Iron Man was closer to Tony than Tony Stark (most of the time). Once he realised that, it wasn't so hard to get his head around. Sometimes it was depressing how few people seemed to get that he was Steve Rogers, not Captain America all the time. The expectation never seemed to go away, though sometimes he could blend in out of the suit and without the shield. Tony wasn't so great at the blending in thing, but at home, in the tower, in the workshop, he was far more Tony than Stark. Steve wasn't sure how to bring it up, but he was pretty sure Tony got how it went and honestly he didn't want to fight anymore. He was pretty tired of fighting, and he really didn't want to alienate one of the first friends he'd actually made in this new century. It wasn't about Howard, it wasn't about everything Tony could do for him, it was just... nice to have a friend, and Steve was almost terrified of losing that again. 

Tony had helped him get all the stuff moved in and then left him to it, saying something about working on a new experiment with Bruce. That warmed Steve's heart a little bit. Even if he didn't really fit (though he was becoming less convinced by that thought), at least two of his team were getting close and more comfortable. He knew the two of them were geniuses and whether or not he ended up feeling more comfortable, he wanted Bruce to have something at least. If he and Tony were working on something that probably meant he'd be settling in and that might make the team work even more easily. He wasn't sure if Hulk could get skittish, but finding out wasn't really on his list of things to do either. 

He investigated the room, finding it easier to focus on this one place to start with even though Tony had made it clear the whole floor was his. There was even a small private gym with reinforced equipment, but Tony had mentioned there being an even bigger, better equipped gym a couple of floors away that was for everyone to use so Steve figured he'd probably spend most of his time there. He hoped that maybe the others would use it too and they could train together like a real team. He liked that idea. The thought that Tony had realised Steve would probably need reinforced equipment made his stomach do a weird little flip and he had to swallow a few times not to cry, especially when he glanced around to see that one corner of the massive open plan room had obviously been set up as an artist's studio. 

He walked over to it as if in a dream, fingers barely grazing the surfaces. It looked like Tony had basically bought out the contents of an art supply store. He had every media he could wish for and a few more he hadn't even known existed. He'd never been able to afford anything more than paper and pencil before but now... he had to force down the tears again, and turned physically away from the art materials (arranged by huge windows for the maximum natural light), to see what else was there. 

There were a series of bookcases, filled with all the major books from the time he'd been under the ice, and shelves of dvds too. Tony had been very careful to explain that Jarvis would be able to play anything he wanted to watch, but he also realised that Steve might not always want to interact with technology and this way seemed a great compromise between the two. He had a proper desk for letter writing so he could keep in touch the old fashioned way, and even an old gramophone with a selection of records. He lifted one with trembling hands and closed his eyes as he read the title, forcing himself to keep very calm and not tighten his grip on the brittle vinyl. Glen Miller. He glanced at the others, seeing names he recognised and others that were less familiar. He hadn't even known you could still get stuff like this, and he didn't like to ask Tony how much it had cost, but he knew that if value were calculated based on how much they were worth to him, he'd never be able to pay the man back in a thousand lifetimes. It was probably just as well Tony was refusing to accept a cent.

Pulling himself away from the thoughtful little touches that made him want to cry, that made him feel like maybe he belonged here after all when everything else he'd known had passed away and even old fashioned good manner were rarely welcomed, Steve thought it would be easiest to look at the kitchen and the bathroom. 

Tony said he hoped people would be using the communal kitchen more, but if you were sick, or you were done with people or just needed a little quiet time he understood the value of being able to do things yourself so everyone's set of rooms had a little kitchen area. Steve hadn't been expecting it to be fully stocked. There was even a packet of what had been his favourite candy on the counter with a little note.

"Dad said these were your favourites, they still make them. Managed to hunt them down. I can't promise the recipe is completely the same, I know bananas aren't, but welcome home Cap"

The bathroom was at least as big if not bigger than the footprint of the entire apartment Steve had grown up in. There was a bath which looked big enough for him to stretch out in completely, and a separate shower cubicle. He'd seen arrangements that combined the two before but he could see the sense in this. Shower for everyday cleaning and post mission get this crap off me now moments, and a bath for the times he ached in body, soul or both and needed to relax. The idea of enough time or hot water to do that was new but while he felt a little guilty the prospect of it was too exciting for him to worry too much. He just resolved that baths would be a special treat. A very special treat.

There was a basket (lined with red, white and blue tissue paper, because he could) which had a whole range of bath products and another one of Tony's helpful notes explaining what to do with them, what the scents were and where to get them if he liked them. Steve had never seen anything like them in his life before but they sounded nice and the idea of finishing all the moving in then having a long bath before he headed up to see what the others were doing about dinner was an alluring one. 

He headed back to his boxes, realising how little he really had and wondering if any of it was really grand enough for this place.

"Sir has left a personalised clothes catalogue for you to look through at your leisure and instructs me to order anything you might like. He understands that you feel you do not need these things but at the same time he is anxious to make sure that you do have everything you actually need and so I would ask you to let me know when it's convenient."

It took a moment before Steve managed to place what was going on having already jumped out of his skin. 

"...Oh, right, thanks Jarvis." He offered the ceiling a hopeful smile.

"You are welcome Captain. Is there anything I might do to assist you?"

"Uh... do you know what the others are planning on doing for dinner?"

"I believe there will probably be a mass takeout order later. Shall I inform Sir that you will be eating with them?"

"Only if you're sure they won't mind?"

"You would be more than welcome Captain, and may I take this opportunity to welcome you to your new home."

Steve smiled again, a little colour on his cheeks as he nodded. 

"...Thank you Jarvis. I'll never be able to pay him back for all of this."

"You need not concern yourself with that idea, Captain. For Sir the value of money is only in what it can be used to do and he believes its greatest profit to be the happiness, health and safety of those he cares about. He cares about all of you and so I do not believe that you need feel any guilt about the current state of affairs. The greatest thanks you can give Sir will be enjoying yourself, building a home here and letting us know anything else you might need. I have an invitation from Agent Carter for you to visit her at your earliest convenience."

"Peggy?!"

"The very same Sir. Shall I tell her to expect you tomorrow?"

"Are you serious?!"

"Completely."

"Please. Thank you. Thank you. Sorry. Uh. Can I turn you off or anything? I just need a little-"

"Privacy. I understand. I will return to passive monitoring for health and security reasons and only become active again when addressed by name. Or when alerting you to dinner."

"Thank you Jarvis."

"My pleasure, Captain Rogers. Please enjoy the rest of your day, and welcome home."

***

The SHIELD trio all moved in together, and it had taken Tony by surprise to see Coulson in anything but a suit and Natasha looking like a normal person. 

"I didn't think you wore casual clothes! I didn't think you knew casual clothes existed!" he spluttered, watching them carry boxes into the lobby, "I mean, I knew about Barton, the guy could make a suit casual clothes by putting it on, but seriously?!"

Clint was laughing as he followed the other two in ripped jeans and a tatty, stained t-shirt, his skin taut and tan over the impressive muscles in his arms.

"He's not welded to the suit, you know..."

"Well, no, I've heard rumours about you two, I was pretty damn sure the suit came off. I just didn't know he owned other things to put back on."

"Screw you, Stark."

The response was good natured, and followed by a swift slap on the ass from Phil, who kissed Clint's cheek and murmured, voice low,

"You better not be thinking about screwing anyone but me..."

"Yes Sir! No Sir, no way at all!" Clint replied happily, carrying on his merry way into the tower, glad to find that Tony had given him and Phil a floor together and Natasha was right downstairs.

Tony couldn't help but laugh, following them in and heading back to the workshop to continue what he had been doing. He had an idea at the back of his head for a new kind of propulsion system and it would be interesting to find out whether that would work on a large scale thing like a jet. He could fly, Thor could fly, but it wasn't the most sensible long term solution and he didn't want to be reliant on SHIELD technology more than necessary, particularly considering that his own stuff was obviously of a much higher calibre.

***

After Steve, the most thought had probably gone into getting Natasha's rooms right. She was a hard woman to read, whether or not things were professional. While technically the team relationship was a professional one (as the one where she had been spying on him undercover at Stark Industries, started sleeping with /his/ CEO and stabbed him in the neck with a very suspicious syringe had technically also been professional), Tony actually liked her. They hadn't talked much, but he had the feeling that they understood where each other was coming from better than some others. Of course, Bruce got Tony too and he certainly didn't understand Natasha in the weird creepy brain twin/pet thing she had going on with Clint kind of way, but he was pretty sure that underneath the professional veneer she didn't really know how to relate to people. 

Weapons were an obvious thing to make for Natasha, but he was more interested in giving her things that treated her like a person, things that had no purpose except being luxurious or comforting, or ridiculously corny. 

The decor was quite plain, with a note on physical paper indicating that she was welcome to decorate them any way she liked. Tony was pretty sure the idea of a home was pretty foreign and she wouldn't want to get too attached to a space that she would probably have to leave one day, but he hoped that with time she would be less on the edge of flight. He made sure to leave some touches in the kitchen supplies too, some of the tea mixes she and Bruce had apparently discussed, a bottle of her favourite tequila and a couple of single plantation coffees which he was pretty fond of. 

He'd kept a pretty open dialogue with Clint and Phil when considering her space too, and there were black, oversized, fluffy, wonderful towels in a bathroom that had a similar selection of bath luxuries to Steve's (except that Pepper had guided him on the selection of those). The towels wouldn't show any blood or other stains, they were her colour, and they were as supremely comfortable as it had been possible for him to find. Similar attention to detail had gone into the selection of bedlinens. He'd paid Pepper for all her help with a basket of shoes and the reminder that while she probably wouldn't actually be there 90% of the time, at least she and her girlfriend would now be living under the same roof. That had cheered her up a little. 

Natasha had been surprised to look around and see her quarters. She'd also been surprised by the fluffy black robe and matching slippers at the end of the bed. She rolled her eyes, pointedly not intending to give them a second glance, certain that Jarvis would be monitoring her. The first priority was going to be establishing his protocols and making it clear exactly how much prying she would or would not tolerate into her personal business. The answer was going to be not a lot. 

She didn't have a gym but she did have an exercise room with mirrored walls. There was nothing about dance, but there was a note on the wall pointing out that Jarvis had no cameras in here, and would pasively monitor only - if addressed he would respond, and he would alert the others if there was a lack of consciousness or other serious injury, but that she had this space more or less entirely private, or at least as private as Tony was prepared to let it be without compromising the safety of his team. 

She wasn't sure how to accept this kindness but she had long accepted that while she was gorgeous and Tony flirted with everyone and everything as his base state of being, he had no intentions towards her. Their relationship had improved when she had accepted that he wasn't actually going to betray all her trust in him and demand favours she would accede to but which would leave working together hard to achieve.

It was a difficult transition to make, from being an undercover black widow agent who regularly posed as the bait in honey traps and seduced whatever information she needed out of whoever could supply it, to being on a team where she was very much a public figure (though less so than some of the others, thank god), and where she was there for her fighting and tactical prowess, for her linguitic ability, for her piloting skills, for her own personality rather than for her body or what she could do with it. 

She carried in the last box (she didn't have much stuff), looked around, and decided that after moving in it would only be reasonable to take advantage of the huge bath. At least years on undercover missions had taught her not to be shy of making the most of the facilities available. And were there facilities available!

***

Thor didn't go to a huge amount of effort to personalise his quarters, at least at first. It happened gradually, as with so many things in this new existence. He was equally happy spending time in New Mexico, but he understood that Jane's work meant she could not spend every waking moment with him (particularly because of the hours she had to keep in order to actually do her work meaning that waking hours didn't align perfectly with everyone else's definition), and that taking time apart (but not so far apart that they were on different planets) benefited the relationship in the long run because she didn't worry about him being constantly underfoot and found it a lot easier to enjoy the time they did get together.

They eventually worked out an agreement where he spent alternate weekends down there. The argument had originally been made for alternate weeks, but while Thor could fly relatively quickly, the Battle of New York had raised the Avengers profile, drawn attention to themselves as an organisation and created a target that supervillains the cosmos over apparently now wanted to try themselves against. Because of that, sadly, Thor agreed that he should spend the majority of time in New York (but it was made clear a Stark Industries transport would be made available to Jane any time she wanted to visit and Tony was pretty sure Darcy was going to be taking full on advantage of that because there was absolutely no convincing reason for her not to).

He soon realised that some of his team mates were well positioned to help him understand the work Jane was doing. He could follow some of it, at least, but not in mortal terms and he wanted very much to understand what she was discovering, and how it was interpreted in a very different culture. It was an alien world, but it was one he was growing fonder of with every passing moment and he wanted to understand his beloved's career and her achievements so he would be able to better support her in it. As far as he was concerned, she was a genius. There was no telling him otherwise, no persuading him that she was, for example, ordinary. Jane sent him copies of every paper she had published, and Thor sat with Bruce and Tony, drinking tea and discussing them for hours on end, debating principles form so many different angles that rarely could people outside follow the conversation, but they were happy and Thor delighted in the chance to learn. 

It was true that those on Asgard for the most part perceived Midgardians as primitive, but he knew that those he surrounded himself with were not so, even if Doctor Richards had made uncharitable comments about the nature of Clint's weapon. Thor did not understand the issue - it was effective. In the hands of someone skilled, even a stick could be an effective weapon, and whilst it might not have been powered by technology as such (though Tony kept muttering about the materials involved in Clint's equipment being worth more than Reed's patent royalties for a year), the damage that could be wrought with it was plain to see. When it came to war, and indeed, many other things, Thor had little time for superiority complexes. His own had been punctured so comprehensively that he had learned to prize humility in others, and the delicate balance between humility and arrogance. It was necessary to understand one's own abilities and to be able to step forth and make one's case, to be assured in the face of difficulty, but he had no time for egotism and ways of dissuading it in others.

Most people tend to change their tune a little when the air around them starts to crackle. It was an interesting quirk of humanity that he was beginning to observe, but then they were comparatively frail (though not the Captain or Banner). He was grateful for their company. They were not the same as the Warriors Three or the Lady Sif and there were occasions when he would have counted himself glad to have them at his side. But this new team was no replacement and rather they were allied as shield brothers and sisters in his heart and he was glad to live among them, and astounded every day by their strength. It was like the best possible study abroad to experience and be totally immersed in another culture on another world.

***

The patterns they fell into were organic rather than defined. Most nights they ate together in the communal areas. Bruce and Steve usually took turns to cook, sometimes Clint and Phil helped out. Thor occasionally tried to contribute, usually in the form of barbeque, but Jane was working on familiarising him with some Midgardian salads and he seemed particularly fond of one with goat's cheese and walnuts in. 

Everyone took their turn to do the shopping. There was a particular account which Tony had reserved for household expenses and everyone had a card linked to it. The shopping list had things added through the week, so for example if someone wanted to make something special or specific, or they'd run out of a preferred breakfast cereal or something, it would all be replaced. 

Tony always complained about the fact that he should have just been able to order everything, but Bruce and Steve in particular enjoyed the chance to go out and explore the markets and ethnic stores and find interesting and delicious things more cheaply. Thor often took a long time and explored parts of the city as part of his trips out, unfazed by the prospect of carrying the shopping that much further. He loved talking to people, the gift of Allspeak meaning that communcation barriers were a thing that happened to other people. He was instantly recognisable enough that it provided a good starting point for a conversation, and, well, yelling at the guy when he was so obviously interested in your life and everything about your history and where you'd come from was not entirely different to kicking a puppy as Clint had been known to point out. 

Sometimes they ordered takeout, and they built up a range of regular restaurants who wouldn't freak out at the size of the order required to cope with enhanced metabolisms (especially when you counted Bruce after a fight who burned more calories than even Steve did), and they started having movie nights to catch Steve and Thor up on culture (and Bruce, who had missed out on a lot on his travels. No matter how much he claimed that he didn't miss blockbusters and felt culturally enriched by the local stuff he'd seen instead, Clint never failed to shout him down and they usually ended up watching some dreadful spy movie). Natasha always claimed to be above such things but for some reason she never failed to be reading or cleaning her weapons or doing some other task which was plainly absorbing and completely necessary in the movie room when they all crowded around on the massive, squidgy couches which were more comfortable than they had any right to be.

After fights very few words were exchanged. Bruce was usually grey with exhaustion, and he didn't always make it through the debriefs SHIELD (and Steve) always insisted on. Nobody had the heart to wake him if he started snoring in a quiet little snuffle, slumped forward on the table though.

They'd all pile in, usually peeling off to separate showers (though Bruce always hit the fridge first, sometimes someone was kind enough to throw him together something calorific and hot, but usually he just grabbed something himself).

Everyone drifted back into the living room in turn and a debate about what kind of takeout they wanted would ensue (their regular restaurants always called in extra people when they heard there had been another Avengers battle that day), resulting in at least one, occasionally several orders being placed and something ridiculous being put on the TV that they could all ignore for long enough to wind down. Sometimes people made it to bed, but more often than not at least half the team ended up passed out where they lay, comforted by the proximity of the others. Nothing was said in the mornings, but over time people didn't even bothe rleaving anymore and it just became standard for them all to crash in various permutations across floor cushions, bean bags, couches, armchairs and each other. It was unusual, but it worked and there was nobody to tell them it was wrong. 

***

When Bucky turned up at the tower, about six months after he'd dragged Steve out of the Potomac, he wasn't sure what to expect. He'd been following the news, reading everything he could get his hands on to make sense of what had happened to Steve, what had happened to him and everything that had changed in the intervening decades that he'd been completely unaware of for various reasons, or which he had known once but lost in one of many mind wipes. 

He wasn't expecting to be hugged so hard he was pretty sure he could see stars, or dragged upstairs by a best friend who was suddenly seemingly unchanged by the serum and the years, acting just like the persistent overenthusiastic puppy he had once been. 

He wasn't expecting Tony Stark to glance up from whatever it was he was working on, offer a half wave, a smile, and point him at a place on the table that Bruce Banner was in the middle of laying for him with a welcoming smile.

"You picked a good night to turn up, we've got chilli and cornbread and salad and then there's banoffee pie for dessert."

Bucky blinked a few times, and glanced at Steve for an explanation when none was forthcoming. 

Steve just shrugged, joy in his eyes as he grinned. 

"There's been a place for you here ever since I got out of hospital... we've been looking but I figured... I figured if you didn't want to be found I couldn't make you be. There was a lot to deal with. A lot to look into. But I did look. I hoped you'd come here eventually. So you got a room on my floor, and then if you want it there's a floor of your own Tony set up for you. He's been working on schematics for a new prosthesis for the last six months. I think the last plans had missiles in. Please don't let him give you missiles Buck.

Bucky cracked a smile at that, even though it felt strange on his face, the muscles aching with disuse as he shrugged, stiff but making the effort nonetheless.

"Seems to me missiles might be the only way I can keep up with you Stevie. I've been watching you fight. You're still just as dumb as you ever were and the only reason people don't call you on it is because you've got good people around you. It was the same in the war and you know it."

"Hey now," that was Natasha's voice, and Bucky turned, blinking at the familiarity of it and taking a moment to appreciate up close who the little girl he had once mentored had become, "You can't blame that all on us. You had many years with him and you couldn't do anything about the stupid. We haven't had that long. And it's not like we haven't tried but there are limits to my patience and I'm not spending that long watching someone try to put on a parachute again. He does it deliberately you know."

Bucky turned dark eyes on Steve, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he frowned, suddenly serious.

"Is that so?"

Steve fidgeted awkwardly and offered a one shouldered shrug, arms held protectively across his body.

"...Maybe?"

Bucky dropped the air of menace with a half smile.

"Punk."

Steve's grin shone brighter than a searchlight as he shot back easily,

"Jerk."

Bucky leaned forward and pulled him into an awkward, one armed hug.

"Next time you can keep your fucking stupid."

"Thought you said I already had too much."

"Doesn't mean I need what you have going spare. Put some in the bank for a rainy day or something. I would have thought you'd run out by now."

"Hey Barnes!" That was Clint, "You're taking Wednesdays on the grocery rota!"

He blinked as Tony got up from his seat and stretched, then glanced back with an easy smile and a raised eyebrow,

"Welcome to the family. Want a beer?"

Bucky took one last long around the room, taking in his idiot best friend, the size of the dishes of cornbread being taken out of the oven and the swearing from Clint in the kitchen as he burned his hand and Phil swatted him for not being more careful, Natasha removing some of her knives because they needed cleaning later and there was no point eating with them still close when she would basically be armed at the table, and the sight of the man who was known to most people as The Incredible Hulk humming to himself as he dressed and tossed a bowl of salad the size of Steve's shield and the God of Thunder glared intently at the TV screen as he attempted to manipulate the steering wheel on what looked at a glance like Mario Kart. 

"...Yeah," He said at long last, "Yeah. I think I'm gonna need one."

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted an excuse to write some domestic fluff, and to explore all the little details which might make people feel more comfortable, especially Steve who is so out of his depth and missed out on so much, and Natasha, who it's easy to assume doesn't care about the comforts and tries to deny that she likes or needs anything at all. 
> 
> Then I realised I didn't need an excuse. So I wrote what I wanted to read, and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did.


End file.
